Poems (Chitwood)/George D. Prentice

by Mary Louisa Chitwood

GEORGE D. PRENTICE.

Oh! thou wilt love me less,
 Less in the hour we meet;
It is no face of loveliness
 Thy dreams have made so sweet.

Thy soul hath trusted mine!
 And mine, oh mine! thine own;
My future all bereft of thine,
 Were cheerless, sad, and lone.

Sweet absent friend, as yet
 Our ways have led apart;
Thine earnest eyes I ne'er have met,
 Nor heard thy throbbing heart;

But sometimes, when I stand
 Dreaming of lovely things—
What time the gloaming o'er the land
 Hath spread its golden wings;

What time the maiden moon
 Looks shyly on the waves,
And listens to the solemn tune
 Flowing from mermaid caves,—

Oh! at that time I think
 Thou com'st, the fond, the true,
To drink my thoughts as lilies drink
 At night the shining dew.

Let not a single tie
 That binds our souls be reft;
One after one life's joys go by,
 But may this one be left.

Then let us never meet,
 Oh! name no future hour;
The bud has been so very sweet,
 Something would blight the flower.